On the train between Turin and Paris, I was seated opposite a German Shepherd. The service dog had a window seat and looked out to a view of the snow capped French Alps. When we'd pass through pitch black tunnels, he would stare at his reflection with an expression that looked like he was contemplating his own consciousness- like a human might. The most confronting thing was when our gaze would meet. I'd quickly look away out of embarrassment, but the dog would continue to look at me. I felt awkward and judged by the seriousness of his stare.
As well as his human-like expressions, the dog was distinguished by a very long tongue that almost touched the table that was situated between us. Over the course of the journey, the table became covered in drool from his consistent panting. I, too, received the occasional flick of dog drool on my water-proof coat. Everyone around me ignored his presence. He was accepted and treated like a human passenger. It made me think about how we live our lives alongside other animals with different modes of sentience and communication.
I looked out the window to a view of Grenoble while I listened to a Sade album through my headphones. There was something exceptionally stunning about the combination of the snowy view with the elegance of Sade's voice, and yes, with the company of my fellow canine traveller too.
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| (Multiflash) of a dog's tail wagging, Harold Edgerton, 1939 |